Denise, Paul, and the Barbarian

With himself as a pillow, the two continued to kiss. With her body pressed against his, her breasts flattened across his chest, her pelvis pushed against his, it did not take Denise long to note the impressive bulge inside the barbarian's leather trousers.

Walther the Wrathful had read the look of desire in the face of more women than most men will ever meet in their lifetimes, rarely had he encountered a hunger as obvious as that of Demise Letters. With a subtle shift, he was able to liberate his manhood from his trousers. Denise felt the firm shaft of Walther's naked manhood against her and her eyes took on the look of enchantment. She broke the kiss with the barbarian and slid down his body until her mouth was above his cock. The barbarian was delighted to discover that this civilized woman was quite proficient in the oral arts. His brown eyes met her blue ones and smiled. Denise gestured with her body as if to reciprocate. Walther had a quite pleasurable idyll until Denise broke off her ministrations, smiled contentedly, shifted position, and impaled herself on the barbarian's pole. The chamber soon echoed with Denise's cries of passion as she rode Walther to climax, fell against him and whispered hotly in his ear, "My hero!"

As far as Walther was concerned the stone floor beneath him might as well been eider down. Rarely had he experienced such a transformative moment. Her clasped Denise to himself, and despite the danger to them both, slept.

Not too many hours passed before Walther was once more conscious and every inch the dangerous warrior. He knew he should chasten himself for napping, but he knew he would never regret this moment. Even if the two brigands who escaped were about to return with a gross of assailants and his death was certain, Walther would not care, for he had this memory and this moment. Gently, he shook the still slumbering wife of another man awake. Her blue eyes flew open. At first, she smiled, but then seemed to remember her status and her civilized veneer. She rose to her feet and stepped as far away from Walther as the collar's chain would allow. Walther smiled to himself. Obviously, the woman had enjoyed every moment of their shared passion, but, she was a civilized woman ...

The barbarian rustled up a large rock and used it to shatter the end of Denise's chain bolted to the floor. Removing the collar would take time and was best done elsewhere.

"Did they?" he asked softly.

"No, fortunately, they were just about to draw straws to decide who got to take me first when you arrived. Thank you, Walther."

"I was hired to protect you. Mrs. Letters"

"It's Denise."

"Where are your clothes?"

"Those heathens tossed every scrap I was wearing into the fire to prove some sort of point. They also thought it was hilarious when the melted down my wedding ring!"

Walther managed to find a tunic on one of the corpses that was not too dirty and not stained with blood and helped Denise into it.

"We best make our exit, Denise. I'll work on getting the collar off later,"

A sudden thought occurred to Walther. Denise noted that he was in deep thought but what he was thinking about never made it past his lips beyond the sentence, "That is not a bad idea."

Walther's intelligent horse was waiting where he had been tethered. Walther mounted up and pulled Denise off the ground and placed her behind himself, lifting her as though she weighed nothing.

"We are going to be a bit later in returning to your husband than I promised."

"I'm sure he won't care." replied Denise.

As they rode, Walther could not help but notice that Denise held more tightly to him than required to stay astride the saddle and seemed to be deliberately pressing her breasts and groin into his back. "No, not a bad idea at all," he repeated to himself as the miles to the thieves' cavern evaporated.

Having seen the barbarian in action, Denise was not surprised in the least at the ease with which Walther rolled the giant boulder away from the opening of the cave. Paul's eyes adjusted to the light and lit up when they spied Denise.

"Honey!" he yelled as Walther lifted her from the horse and set her down next to him. Paul thought this kiss the sweetest of their entire marriage.

The huge barbarian compiled a simple yet filling meal from things both in the wagon and from the stores in the cave. Suddenly ravenously hungry, the three ate immediately. Denise had not removed her borrowed tunic and sat unabashedly on a short stool, the chain from her collar dangling over her left shoulder. As they ate, the barbarian made his presentation.

"My actions in the cave will not go unnoticed. The two who survived will, no doubt, alert every highwayman in the wilds about our presence. That is very bad news. There is probably already a large bounty on both your heads as well as my own. I thrive under that pressure but the two of you are not built for that. They will be looking for a well-dressed couple riding a wagon accompanied by a barbarian. HOWEVER, if we disguise ourselves to be something that we are not, we may pass unnoticed right under their noses."

"What do you suggest?" asked Denise and Paul almost as one.

"Well, I'm sure you won't like it, but what if Denise becomes, at least temporarily, what those brigands would have made her?"

"I'm not following you." stated Paul.

"Let me put it this way. They are looking for a civilized couple, NOT a lone individual and a barbarian accompanied by his slave girl."

"WHAT!" sputtered Paul. Denise was non-committal and contemplative.

"We DON'T have to do it that way but, in my opinion, it is the best course of action. Most people see only what they want to see. The bandits and kidnappers want and expect to see a pair of well dressed civilized folk sharing a wagon top. In the western wilds, that is unusual. But a barbarian and his slave are so common in the wilds as to be almost invisible. If we follow my scenario, they will see a lone traveler trailing his barbarian guide. If we travel only by daylight we should be perfectly safe."

"Are you insane, you barbarian!" began Paul but Denise replied with, "What would that involve, Walther?"

"I could fake a brand on your butt cheek that would fool all but the best expert, necessary in case you have to get naked or we come across an inspection agent. We can convert that tunic you are wearing into the requisite rags and you probably have a pair of sandals in your wagon."

"I see," replied Denise after a moment of deep thought and followed with, "and what would be expected of me?"

"You would ride with me, obey me, serve me, try your best to convey to the world that I own you."

"And when we exit the western wilds and near Brant View, everything goes back to normal?" stated Denise.

"Of course," returned Walther the Wrathful, "Once we leave the wilds, our masquerade becomes pointless."

"You cannot seriously be considering this, honey!" cried Paul in an emotion-laden voice.

"Darling, so far, Walther has proved correct in everything he surmised. Did he not tell us that it would be best if we obey him and follow his lead every moment we are in the western wilds?"

"Yes, but I'm sure he did NOT mean THAT!"

Denise approached and embraced her husband. After kissing him deeply she stated, "Darling Paul, I want the new life in Brant View just as much as you do. But if we die out here in the wilds, all of those dreams become meaningless. Walther would only borrow me for a week or so, you have me for all the tomorrows after that."

"Since when did, "barbarian" become 'Walther."?" inquired the not very placated Paul.

"I call you "Paul" darling, even if you DIDN'T save my life and my virtue."

With those words, Paul knew further objection would be fruitless. He liked the idea still less as he watched the barbarian, with thinly veiled delight, trace a white and pink "S" on his wife's right butt cheek with the chemicals Paul provided.

"This should last for about a month, even with bathing factored in," stated Walther as he put the finishing touches on the ersatz brand. What went unspoken was his wish that the modification to the succulent buttocks was real and that Denise would truly be his in every way.

Paul's reaction to Denise in her borrowed tunic as customized by the barbarian was at once awestruck and angry. Awed by how beautifully the carefully cut and tied fabric exposed his wife's exquisite physique and anger that his, usually incredibly demure wife, would willingly expose so much skin to the barbarian and, eventually, total strangers. She could not help that Walther had rescued her in a state of total undress, but she certainly had a choice in this matter! Paul was frustrated as well that his will was subverted by that of his wife. Even in this situation, Paul felt he risked losing Denise entirely if he tried to change her mind. He knew a man as ordinary as he felt himself to be was extremely lucky to have landed such a stunning bride and that to keep her, he felt he had to accede to her every whim.

At about three P.M. The newly rearranged trio made their exit from the cave used by barbarian thieves. Paul noted how tightly his wife clung to the barbarian and felt a sour taste in his stomach. Though she was trying to be subtle, Paul could plainly see that Denise was feeling and stroking the huge man's muscles through his clothes. Paul's sour feeling intensified. He sincerely hoped that the barbarian did, in fact, know what he was doing.

They reached the destination of their day's journey, a tavern nestled below a huge stone rock. The natural formation resembled, vaguely, a castle so the tavern was named the Royal Inn. Even from the outside, Paul could tell that the respectable name was meant to be taken as a joke. Bawdy music could be heard coming from the inn's open windows.

"Just act natural, once we are inside, lad, and follow my lead."

Walther dismounted and lifted Denise from the back of his horse with one hand. Paul would have been outraged except it was clear that the barbarian was not showing off, for, with his other hand, he hitched his horse's reins to the post. Once she was on the ground, Walther looked meaningfully at Denise and said,

"This is our first big test, Denise, how about a kiss for luck?"

Paul appeared positively apoplectic as he watched his bride exchange a kiss far deeper than the average "luck" kiss with the handsome rogue who their lives depended upon. Denise noted Paul's discomfort and gently stroked his arm.

"Paul, darling I am keeping track of every kiss I have to provide Walther while in disguise. For every kiss I give him when all of this is over, I will give you three!"

That made Paul feel a bit better, but his stomach was still sour as they strode through the doors. This place made the Lamb's Neck seem the apex of sophistication. It was smokey and dark, sawdust laden piles of vomit decorated the floor and on stage, a beautiful naked slave girl gyrated to the beat of the band's music.

Walther turned to face Denise and Paul, "In the wilds, taverns don't get any better than this," He left them for a moment to see that all of their horses were fed and watered and their room assignments, exposing Denise to rude proposals and Paul insinuations about his sexuality. Though it was only a few moments, for Denise and Paul hours seemed to pass before the huge barbarian returned and led them to unobtrusive seats in the corner.

Walther retrieved some money from his belt, handed it to Denise and stated loud enough to be heard by all,

"Fetch a beer for me and my friend, wench!"

After a moment for the order to register, Denise rose to her feet and strode towards the bar. Like every other slave girl present, she wore the length of chain over her left shoulder. Denise felt every eye acutely as she strode across the room. She tried to tell herself that such inspection would bother her if she was Denise Letters, but currently, she was not, she was Walther's nameless slave girl and therefore should revel in this attention. Acting had been one hobby her parents tolerated, for a while. Once she came of age and her great beauty was apparent to all, they forced her off the stage and began parading a stream of wealthy but deadly dull suitors past her. Paul had literally bumped into her at the library and was the first man who ever made Denise feel as though she were not just another commodity to purchase or trophy to house. He was a perfectly wonderful husband, but some of the actors she had worked with...

"My master will have two beers, barkeep." stated Denise as she placed the coins on the bar. The obese man with the moon face and greasy hair looked at the money, and then at Denise.

"Your money's no good here, cutie unless you flash me your tits!"

Denise successfully kept the shock she felt from registering on her face.

"My Master will flay you alive for your insolence!"

"I don't think so, the entire bar would be on MY side. No boobs, no booze!"

Denise rolled her eyes and tried to rationalize that she would never see this human slug again, nor would he, she realized ever see a finer set of breasts than her own. It seemed a waste for her magnificent breasts to be spied by such an unworthy being, nonetheless, Denise parted the fabric of her rag top and allowed the pervert a healthy glance. She concealed her breasts once more. The barkeep smiled, filled two flagons with the best beer on tap, placed them before Denise and stated,

"Pleasure doing business with you, cutie!"

"I'm sure!" replied Denise angrily

"What took so long?" asked Paul.

"When we are VERY old, I may tell you." replied Denise cryptically.

Walther took a healthy sip of beer and stated, "The food here is bland and tasteless but it IS filling. The roast chicken tastes like stale bread but is probably the best option. We have a long journey tomorrow and we should turn in early."

The food was every bit as bad as advertised but Paul and Denise ate every bit of it. Walther ordered the stew, which he stated was a mistake of the first order. Denise made anther trip to the bar and tit flash to provide a second beer for all. Slave girls were legally proscribed from drinking alcohol in public in the wilds. All taverns, including this one, provided them a gratis concoction composed of syrups and sodas. Denise thought it the most delicious drink she had ever experienced.

Walter announced to all that it was time for bed. He rose and extended his hand to Denise.

"Your room is in the east wing, lad. I have you registered as Brooks."

"But I thought..." began Paul

"Why would MY slave be in your room, lad? I'm just the hired help." with that the barbarian pulled Denise to her feet and said, "Come, wench."

Paul watched them leave with barely stifled rage. What could he do? Make a scene and perhaps expose who he was and get them all killed? Paul tried to rationalize that just because they shared a room, it didn't mean... but then he recalled his wife's not so subtle groping of the barbarian. Feeling like road kill, Paul did the only thing he could. He made his way to his room. It was tiny and dark but the window looked down upon his wagon. He had just removed his shirt when he heard a knock on the door.

A slim, pretty, dark-haired girl toting a lantern and wearing very little stood in the hallway.

"Good evening, Sir. I understand that you are an unaccompanied gentleman. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Paul scanned the woman from head to toe. For her line of work, she was very pretty, with a trim narrow waist and long legs despite her short stature. A tattoo of firebird graced her chest just above her pert but tiny right breast. But then Paul thought about his marriage and his vows. He reminded himself that he never consorted with THAT kind of woman, and even though his desire was overwhelming, he politely sent the girl on her way. A moment later, Paul realized that refusing the woman had been a mistake. He rushed to the door and gazed intently down the hallway but the lovely woman was nowhere in sight!

Once the door was shut behind them, Walther swept Denise into his arms and placed a long ravenous kiss upon her lips. Denise was startled. She had at least expected the barbarian to give her some time to prepare. However, Walther's fever seemed to cool a bit at the climax of the osculation. He straightened and seemed to compose himself.

"I am hot from the road, I require a bath, slave."

"It's Denise."

"Slaves do NOT have names."

"Yes, "Master"." replied Denise acidly.

For some reason, Denise found that she could not stay angry at the barbarian for any length of time. Before long she was toting the hot water from the small coal stove to the smallish but adequate tub. Once the tub was filled, Denise looked expectantly at Walther.

"It is customary for a slave to undress her Master."

Denise inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out. She knew instinctively what the barbarian was doing and that beyond this point, there could be no turning back for her. She could pass off the encounter in the brigand's cave as a product of emotion and situation. She could pretend her subtle groping of the barbarian as she rode behind him wasn't real, but THIS would be entirely different. She thought of her poor, simple husband, Paul. He was fine man, but ... "This is only a role, a bit of acting I will cast off with these slave rags when we reach Brant View," she told herself. "In the grand scheme of things, this week will be meaningless," she told herself, wanting very much to believe her lie. With trembling hands, she reached for the buttons of the barbarian's tunic.

Naked, the barbarian was beyond anything Denise had imagined. Biceps like corded steel, huge hands that screamed of power, dexterity, and gentility, an astoundingly broad hairless chest with prominent pectoral muscles and huge abdominal muscles so dense they reminded Denise of a miniature mountain range bisected by tiny rivers. Denise had a tendency to note male butts and Walther's was among the finest she had ever spied. His thighs reminded her of thick trees and his calves of stone pillars, and his manhood!

The tremble was still not gone from Denise's hands as began soaping up this astounding giant. Under the slippery soap and water, his muscles felt even more astounding and wonderful. It was like washing some ancient statue come to life. She noted the blood clot on his side where the brigand's bolt had scuttled across his rib cage and realized anew that had obtained this blemish to his adorable skin liberating her. With gratitude, she gently kissed the wound. Silently, she hoped that it would not leave a permanent scar. As she worked, Denise had trouble meeting Walther's intense gaze. When at last, she was able to face him the barbarian smiled sweetly and stated very softly,

"You don't need your clothes anymore, slave."

Instantly, Denise's hands went to the knots supporting the top and bottom of her garment. It fluttered to the floor, leaving her naked for the second time before him. This time was vastly different however, this had come at his request. Not really a request, Denise recalled, but more of a polite order. With sudden insight, Denise realized, totally and irrevocably, that she would follow any order the barbarian gave her.

She stood naked in the intense gaze of the barbarian, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable, causing her to emit a soft sigh. Part plea for mercy, part cry of desire, no sound like it had ever left Denise's throat before. Walther's overwhelming maleness battled in Denise's soul with her civilized sensibilities and obliterated them.

After more wonderful, skin to skin contact with the man that Denise now realized, she had a passion for that was different from any she had felt before, the barbarian placed his palm against her cheek, stared at her possessively and said, "It is time for bed, slave. Rinse yourself off in my bathwater and prepare your mind and body for serving me."